Of Anger and Absolution
by HawaiianCaffeine
Summary: This wasn't right. But being a war hero didn't ease her conscious apparently. Developing a dangerous condition, the only option to fix it is to help someone she disliked the most. But what Hermione really needs may be something else entirely. Dramione.
1. Chapter 1: Seeking Help

_**Title**__: Of Anger and Absolution_

_**Summary**__: Hermione was embarrassed. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. But being a war hero didn't ease her conscious apparently. When she develops a dangerous condition, the only option to fix it is to help someone she disliked the most. Unfortunately, what Hermione really needs may be something else entirely. Dramione._

_**Chapter 1:**__ Seeking Help_

_**Word**__**Count**__: About 4,942_

**Of Anger and Absolution**

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Hermione woke up on the hard earth, in near freezing weather. Despite her groaning, she rolled over and sat up from her previous fetal position used to keep in warmth. It took pure determination and willpower to wake up_ day-after-day _like this_._ To keep oneself from barely starving to death. Plus, it was nearing winter. Things would only get worse from here on out. It was hard work—but one thing Hermione Granger was, was a hard worker. She could do this. The trick was to never think of it in terms of months or years in constant work of survival. _Just take it one day at a time_. She would be fine if she made it just one more day. Just one more day of scavenging for shelter, putting up magical protection shields to keep their many enemies at bay, and living on what berries, nuts, or otherwise that were edible enough to force down. Occasionally they got a feast when a hapless animal ran by. Sad for the furry creature, good for her and her friends. Blearily, she stumbled out of the half-crumpled tent.

Rubbing the crust, glue, and haze from her eyes, Hermione started to methodically go around picking up sticks and wood closest to their campsite. She stacked the wood in the proper "girl scout" positions. If anything, Hermione was precise as well.

Sighing, she called out to her companions, "I know it's hard waking up guys, but we've got to get a move on."

Quickly finishing her job, Hermione wiped her hands on her jeans, pulled out her now battle-worn wand, and started a fire. Usually they wouldn't risk it, but she had made sure to put extra precautions on the shields this time. If they didn't get any decent meat down, the three of them wouldn't need Voldemort to finish them off. They could starve just as easily as get swallowed by that damned green light. Well, worse actually. Starving was so much slower and more _painful_. And the meat must be cooked, of course. So fire it is.

Realizing there was no response from her friends, Hermione suppressed a frustrated noise. Truthfully, she was so tired, she didn't think she had the energy to fuss at them. Following this with a brokenly whispered, "Please?" she turned back toward the tent. Fiddling to keep her bushy brown hair out of her face and in place, she frowned inwardly. She knew she sounded like weak little lamb, and didn't like it one bit. To survive the war… or even this day, she had to be strong. She didn't want to be strong. The bookworm and lover of everything educational used to _pride_ herself on being upright and unyielding. Now though, it was a burden almost too much to bear. But without the strength, they were lost. With only each other to rely on, all three of them had to be at the top of their game. Looking at when she was younger, she had only been playing at being strong. She hadn't been strong, but felt like it. _Now_ she knew she was strong (or at least stronger), but felt so very weak. The idea that if she failed or made one mistake, it could lead to her and her friends' death (and thus _not_ saving the world) probably played a part in that feeling of weakness. But enough reminiscing.

Gathering what strength she had left, she marched up to the tent, tossed back the curtain to ask _what_—

_Empty._ There was no one there.

Her brown gaze flicked all around the tent to see if one of them might've been hiding in the floor or ceiling. _What?_ –That's impossible! She'd just seen them—just _seen them_—

Hermione's eyes widened to saucers in realization and fear. She stumbled back out of the tent, falling hard on her butt, but scrambled back up and frantically scanned the area. "Harry? RON?"

When had she seen them? She hadn't. Not here at least. She glanced down to see her left arm with the words _MUDBLOOD_ inscribed in her skin. Hermione's head fell into her hands as tears started to pour through her fingers. Oh, God, not again. _Not again._ Over and over, she thought '_not again_.'

Eventually Hermione made herself calm down and her heart rate slow. It's okay. It's not like you don't know where they are. Of course she knew where they were. And they were safe, it was fine. Everything was fine. The only person who wasn't fine here was her. Of course, she _was_ the only person here.

And why was that? Because the war was over. Had been over for nearly eight months now. Ron was living with what was left of his merry band of red-headed family. Harry had his own flat. And so did Hermione. _The war was over._ So why was it still haunting her? She had been through enough already, why must her own subconscious betray her as well_? Why did she keep sleepwalking herself into the dreary hell they had worked so hard to get out of?_ And if apparating in her sleep wasn't enough (because only God knew how that was even possible… apparating took serious skill and concentration), but putting up a tent, wards, and all? She groaned; these awful occurrences were progressively getting worse. Even though she should have known better, especially since she was obviously so much healthier than she used to be, the sleepwalking never used to be this elaborate. Looking down at her clothes, Hermione groaned. Even her clothes had been transfigured into the old ratty cloth that had once been very fashionable outerwear.

Sitting up suddenly, Hermione came to a decision. She had been putting it off long enough. She was lucky enough not to have just splinched herself in her sleep. Enough was enough.

Despite her resolve, Hermione's hand shook as she used her wand to pull down the tent and shrink it into her pocket, and remove all of the wards placed on the area. She took a deep breath, then apparated to her one hope of salvation from this crazy wreck of her life. Professor Snape.

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><p>' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l ' l<p>

An irritated and probably unwelcoming throat clearing was heard in the room. It was a rather average space. Only a bed, a coffee table, one set of dresser drawers, and, oddly enough, a television. And there was a large window that overlooked a rather eye-catching forest. The curtains were pulled back as far as possible to reveal as much sunlight and this beautiful view as possible for those in the room.

Somehow, Hermione always imagined something a little more… dark. And dusty. Preferably in the basement made of hard, unyielding stone. And cute, but very dead, animals littered on shelves due to correspond with his very evil and mean-spirited aura. This idea might have been perpetuated by the fact that Hermione had only ever seen her professor in this sort of scenario for six years of her life, since it was the dungeons that held their Potions Class.

Plus, Snape himself was looking much different in this place. He looked… cleaner. Less insidious. More like a grumpy old (well, middle-aged, but whatever) man, with lots of bandages wrapping him here and there, with a cane laid against the table precariously. He was obviously bed-ridden still, despite the fact that it had been eight months since the war had ended. Eight months since Professor Snape had almost (on the literal edge of death—_about to go to the light_—almost) died. Speaking of which, that same man was giving her his blackest look from his forced home in bed.

"Hello Professor Snape," Hermione said professionally, but kindly. A slight smile played at her lips. "Good to see you."

Grunting unhappily, he turned from her, clicked the remote in his hand, and turned the television on. Clearly, he was not glad to see her, and showed it by turning up the volume. In his usual drawl-way, Snape said monotonously, "While it would be a _pleasure_ to catch up on the old days, I'm busy. And I'm no longer your, or anyone else's professor, so please refrain from calling me as such. Severus will do." Snape sneered at the word _pleasure_ as he said it and frowned through the rest of the sentence. "Maybe some other time Miss Granger."

Hermione glance at the TV. It was a Spanish soap opera. Her brown eyes glanced back at him, eyebrows raised. He was now glaring at the offending television as if it was _its_ fault that he was in this position. Hermione restrained outright laughter, which would more likely than not, get her tossed out the front door on her head. Now that she saw him again, she couldn't ever remember why he was always so intimidating. Of course, that was before she actually _knew_ his story and also _knew_ he was not particularly evil at all. He was as harmless as… her cat Crookshanks! Well, maybe not exactly. But they both had what some thought as mean exteriors, but when you got right down to it, they only pretended to mean to hide the goody-two-shoe-purring-FLUFF underneath. Well, not the best comparison, but it would do. And Professor Snape only looked to her like some grumpy cat, not an angry lion ready to devour her. She restrained another chuckle.

Seeing that his façade was not getting Hermione any closer to leaving, especially with her lips twitching to smile, Snape gave a worldly sigh, and shut off the TV.

Better luck next time.

"What do you want Granger? Come to pour out your love and girly sympathy? Or some of that ridiculous moral Gryffindor slosh? Well? Get on with it, I need to get back to my—" and here he smirked ironically, "important Spanish soap operas."

While in the past, Hermione wouldn't have been able to stop herself from roaring laughter at _that_ comment (because, _really_, Snape knew _how to joke?_), instead she sobered very quickly. Her hands started to shake again. He wanted to know why she was there. Clearing her throat, she hid her arms behind her back. Snape's gaze sharpened as he analyzed her strangeness.

Trying to chuckle her nervousness away she said, "I'm sorry to intrude, heh. Just came to… lend a hand."

Snape's eyebrows shot up at this answer. "What do you—"

Realizing that if she was going to convince him of what she wanted, she was just going to have to ignore what he said and do it anyway, she got right to it. Cutting him off, she started to organize his room. Despite that the room was barley furnished, Hermione found that it was still very messy, with random items such as books, bottles, and spilled _whatever-that-was_. Not to mention she thought that those sheets and blankets needed washing. Oh, and a pillow needed fluffing.

As Hermione made a bushy-haired whirlwind around the room, Snape's expression went from surprised to absolutely baffled. "Granger, tell me what—" But instead of listening, she held up a few different sized bottles asking, "Are these dangerous, or safe?"

Taken aback he replied, "Dangerous, but—" Making an affirmation noise, she stood on her tippy-toes, cleared away a shelf high on the wall, and carefully placed each bottle in order of size and color. "Gran—" She waved her hand to stop his speech. He looked on flabbergasted at her. "And _these_? Are they important educational reading, or for sport?" Here she pointed at the papers and books.

"The ones on the left are entertainment, the forward right are educational, and the back right are for my health—" Hermione held up a hand. "Say no more, I've got it." Then she proceeded to shuffle, organize, and shelve all of his reading material. She placed the entertainment on his coffee table, the educational documents in an empty folder on his bookcase, and for his health papers she stapled and used her wand to hang on the wall next to his headboard. Before he could stop her, she also started to rummage and throw away things that seemed next to useless and _scourgified the stains_ and _even_ cleaned his small one foot-by-one foot mirror on the other side of the room.

"Granger, you will stop—" He stopped himself though, when she stood beside him suddenly, pushed him forward, and started fluffing his pillow. Shocked beyond all belief now, Snape decided to take extra measures and leaned back. "_OH_, _FOR HEAVEN SAKES_ _WOMAN!_" Grabbing her shoulders roughly and forcing her to fit into his expected 5 foot personal bubble space. Now she was shocked as he had been earlier as he grumpily stole back his pillow from her furious hands, and stuffed it back behind his body, obviously nonplussed. Or very happy.

Crossing her arms, she said through clenched teeth, "Fine, but I'm taking your blankets right now because it's obviously been months without cleaning and you're just going to have to suffer in the cold till I can find new ones to replace—" As she reached for his bedding, he pulled back away from her, shocked, snatching the blankets away too. The likeness of his movements might be best described as if running from a snake bite. Oh, the irony.

"Granger! Stop whatever the hell it is you're doing and _tell me_ whatever the hell it is you're doing!" Hiding her arms behind her back in guilt, she looked down, blushing from embarrassment. Slightly less manic she said softly, "I was hoping you'd just let it go and let me take care of you. I _am_ training to be a Healer. Or was. Is. Was. Whatever."

Snape waved his waspishly, "Yes, yes, I get that, but _why_ you daft girl? _Why_?"

Hermione rocked on her heels, nervous. Why was Snape so observant to catch on to these things? Not that she couldn't have gone about it more smoothly and subtly… hey, it wasn't her fault! She wasn't a Slytherin after all.

Rubbing her arm she replied cautiously, "I… have to do this for... me. And you're in a really bad condition as it is and it's not like you can't use all the help you can get. So we both get what we want, see Professor?"

Snape's eyes narrowed as he grunted, " I told you not to call me Professor." Shifting his position on the bed uncomfortably and irritably he continued, "And that is _not_ an answer." He said this scathingly, "If you're going to sit here play games with me, just leave. I was the head of the _Slytherin_ house for a reason, Granger, and you will not get me to budge till you explain _what you are _doing_ here._" Although he hadn't said much, it was probably still more than he had ever said to _her_ in… ever. And at these words, Granger, one of the War Hero Trio, the brains, and beauty of the gangs operation, who had fought for months against the foulest wizard to ever walk the earth… faltered. She felt her face heat in embarrassment, and her hands start to shake with the nervous adrenaline. Although she knew that Professor Snape had never been worried over _any_ student, nonetheless, _Hermione_ Know-It-All _Granger_, she saw him straighten in a tense posture as he studied her transformation from frazzled to embarrassment and a bit… vulnerable.

Refusing to meet his eyes, she turned to look out the window into the beautiful forest. She tensed as she started to explain, "I… am not sleeping well lately, Professor." He looked taken aback by this small confession. Wow. Twice in one day, surprising the most battle-hardened, and hate-filled man to ever teach her potions. Well, there had to be a first for everything. And Hermione Granger was full of surprises.

"I have yet to see how this applies to me, Miss Granger. If you need help, surely a psychologist—" She sighed, realizing she would have to fully explain herself. Rubbing her face, especially her eyes that she knew held black and deep bags beneath them.

"That's not all, Professor. I go to sleep alright at night now… but when I wake up, it's not where I fell asleep to begin with." He was still analyzing her, but didn't say a word, knowing she would get around to explaining it eventually. Hermione, who had been glancing sidelong at the man who had been the center of so much conflict in her life, but had turned out to be better than most men she knew. She turned back to the window, and walked up to it, and leaned on the sill, trying to gather her words.

"The first time it happened, I thought that I had… well, bad side-affects to some alcohol. I couldn't clearly remember where I fell asleep, so I supposed that somehow I found my way to the forest. I was confused to say the least." She sighed as she clutched the sill tighter, "I was so used to waking up in the forest during the war, that I was… am… often disoriented when I wake up in the morning. Even while in bed at home. Before I remember everything that's happened, you know." A beautiful little blue bird alighted on a tree closest to the window. They were on the second floor, so they got an aerial view of the forest, and an up-front view of limbs from trees that scattered the backyard. Or at least she assumed it was the backyard.

"The second time it happened, I thought that someone was playing a cruel joke on me. Either that, or had placed a cruel curse. Maybe some Death Eater's family that I had angered in helping take down Voldemort. The only problem was… I was tired. And my feet were dirty and my legs were scratched. I hadn't noticed the first time because of the situation, but this time… well, you don't get cuts like that unless running, not from being carried or apparated." A second blue bird joined the first one. They started to play back and forth, which helped Hermione's lips pull up slightly and finish her explanation. "Then it happened again. And again. It's been happening for months, every few weeks at a time. Every time it happens, I forget what has happened, where I am, what I'm doing and just fall into… procedure. I forget that the war is over. I just get up and start the day as if I still need to fight to survive. I thought I could ignore it since obviously it wasn't some other power out to get me. Just me being… crazy. Sleepwalking is the best I can call it. And it seemed to work well… except for these last few times. The scratches went away. But I still wake up in the forest, never the same place, but usually always the nearest woods to where I sleep." Here she stopped looking at the window, and turned to finally look Snape in the eyes.

"It didn't take me long to realize that I've been recently… apparating. In my sleep." While Snape had been tense before, now he straightened up and started, "That's imposs—"

"I KNOW! Don't you think I've considered how crazy that sounds! But after the second time, I realized that I've been going farther and farther away from my house. Forests not nearest to me. Hundreds of miles away in places _impossible_ to run to! I don't understand it, and it's scaring me, Professor! It's my subconscious, I know it is. I don't need some shrink to explain it to me—not to be boastful, but I'm ten times smarter than all those idiots. I've lived through things, done things, and I… well I know it's silly since we were on the good side and were only doing what was necessary to stay alive, and keep others alive, and destroy Voldemort, but I can't reconcile that in my head. And I want—no I _need_ to do this! To help someone who has been hurt by the war. _To help you_! And I think you need it too, whether you admit it or not."

Snape looked at her appraisingly. When she was talking, he had a serious look, as if munching all the facts she explained to him and digested every one. Now he seemed to have made up his mind. "Granger, I do not want or need your help. Draco is here and works well enough for me to get around. And there are plenty victims of war that need help. Go to one of them—you can get all that you need there, and I do not _want_ or _need_ your _pity, _now if you_ please_—" He motioned for the door. Or the fireplace. Or apparition. Whichever the preferred method to leave.

Something in Hermione snapped. She thought she had handled herself well a few minutes ago—she hadn't broken down crying for a start, and she'd explained everything as quick and precise as Hermione Granger knew how to be quick and precise. But she had laid her heart out for Snape. Usually when people say that phrase, it's some heart-felt… love confession or some such nonsense. But that's not at all what Hermione Granger would do. Instead she would lay her heart out and become vulnerable just to receive a little human kindness and help. And a decent night's sleep. To be fair, he didn't really understand what she was going through. Sure, he'd been through worse having to pretend to be evil while staying firmly on their side (Hermione was of the opinion that she didn't have the stomach to handle such a thing. Snape must be made of _steel_), but he didn't understand why she needed to do _this_. Needed it like air. It's possible that Hermione could be ignorant in some things, such as the human (emotional) heart, since it's not exactly easily written in a book for her to understand. But she knew this. If Snape didn't let her do this—allow her to help him—she would go off the deep end. Might as well start writing her will right now and wait for the night she got splinched or worse… worse like _not_ getting splinched and instead waking up in the forest without having a clue the war was over and never seeing civilization again till someone came to cart her off to St. Mungo's.

So, with Hermione's metaphorical heart lying out to be rejected and struck by a metaphorical knife by Snape, the bushy-haired, bookworm, stable and reliable woman of the merry Golden Trio, became unglued.

"You don't understand—I have to do this!" She threw her arms out wildly into the air, "I have tried to help others and it doesn't work! I need someone at the center of it all! Who it hurt the most and whom I _know_. Someone I can help over a period of months to ease what I've done, not just throw a Band-Aid on and call it good!" She paced around like a crazed lion, trapped in a tower. "I can't eat, I can't even get sleep! God-blessed sleep! If it's easy to fall asleep, then I know that I'll be sleepwalking. If I don't sleepwalk, I can't fall asleep at all anymore! I just lie there awake, memorizing the ceiling tiles. Damned if I do, and _damned_ if I don't! And God-help me because the one man I need help from, the one man I have to admit my damned weakness to, because _Lord_, if it isn't embarrassing _enough_, is the teacher who hated me and my friends and did everything within his power to show it! And this apparating thing, and the wards and tent I put up while asleep—it's all driving me _absolutely_ stark-raving mad if not terrified as well!" She was pulling at her hair now, in absolute abandon of her actions and emotions. And now, in her less composed state, it was amazing how transformed she was. Even he hadn't notice her thin, frail figure, which though improved from the war, was still much worse than it should be. The slight darkness underneath her eyes turned blacker and more ominous. Even her eyes were going red and soon would be… Good, God…

Her throat tightened up as she came next to his bed again and clutched at the edge of the blanket hanging over the side at an odd-angle. "Please—Pro—I mean, Severus, I promise not to cause any trouble. I'll do my job and be on my way—I won't tell anyone at all! No one will know! But I have to help you to make up for what I've done," Tears were beginning to well up, "And you can teach me potions or something if you get bored, so it's not pity! It's service for service and such! I—"

"GRANGER!" He grabbed her shoulders again and enforced his 5 foot rule once again. "Get yourself under control or I will be forced to knock you unconscious before your stupidity gets us both killed—you know what can happen when a witch or wizard loses control." Hermione took a breath. She knew very well. As a (former) training Healer, hundreds of cases walked through the door due to mistakenly preformed magic under duress. As she was in the middle of losing her mind, for example, the air started to shift and sweep about the room, creating a small whirlwind. Maybe not the best tactic to get help from a professor who has hated you for seven years and counting. She looked about and saw her hard work from earlier had nearly been ruined by her emotions run rampant. Looking back at Snape, she saw that even his appearance looked more rumpled than usual. Even his hair slightly stuck up at strange angles.

Clearing his throat, Snape spent the next few minutes fixing his appearance while apparently considering this new information carefully. Hermione looked on sheepishly and stepped back a few paces, giving him some space.

Obviously a thought crossed his mind as he looked up sharply and asked, "What does Potter say of this? And the other one? Weasley." Hermione hesitated. "They… don't know." Before he reacted she rushed in with, "I can't tell them! Ron and Harry have only just started working as Auror's… and Harry's just asked Ginny to marry him! Not to mention it's been less than a year since the war's been over and they've got so much going on, Ron with the family and the… funeral… and Harry with the Ministry… I just can't. I won't. Not now anyway. Not if I can help it. They've both been through so much already."

Snape looked suspicious, but kept his thoughts on this to himself. There was a crash from somewhere else in the house. Both Hermione and Snape turned their heads to the door that led to the hallway. When nothing life-threatening happened, he turned back to face the woman in front of him, thinking of something new to consider as well. She turned back toward him. After a few more minutes of deliberating, he seemed to come to another conclusion as he kept eye-contact with her. Hermione waited with baited breath.

"While I think it would be impossible for a Gryffindor such as yourself to be of _no_ trouble, I will… accept your terms. But only as a favor Miss Granger. One I _will_ expect to collect at some future date. As for now, you will help me around the house, and I will teach you what I know of the art that is potions. That is, of course, for only as long as I need help. When I am healed to the fullest degree, the terms are fulfilled and _you will leave me be_. Agreed?"

Hermione's head snapped up at this, before a wide grin warmed her face to beam light upon all who would look. Of course, only Snape would look at this as some sort of… business transaction. But that was fine with her. She was going to stay! She would finally get the help she needed! She would get some blessed _sleep_!

"Oh, thank you Professor! I promise I'll make you proud!" With that, she turned on her heel to leave.

"Oh, and Granger!" She half-turned toward him. "Sir?"

His lips twitched on his face, obviously wanting to smirk. "Draco will remain here as an aide for you in my health. Tell him I want your room to be downstairs. He will understand." She grimaced. Now she knew why he was smirking. While not going completely crazy or splinching herself while "sleepwalking" was extremely important, living under the same roof as Draco Malfoy was tantamount to sending her to hell. Snape knew how to give back as much as he got in that regard. If he was putting up with her, then sentencing her to spend time with the one person she hated _more_ than him was the perfect payback. Vindictive, wasn't he?

Snape watched as his old brown haired, and brown eyed student's smile tightened, her muscles going tense from his off-hand comment. Yes, he had agreed to help her. But there were multiple reasons for that. The biggest including a… plan that was forming. His attention was pulled toward the door, his expression thoughtful. Yes, everyone would benefit from Hermione swooping in to play "Healer," just as she had said earlier in their conversation. She just didn't know the extent of her "help." Hermione turned to look at the door to see what 'was so interesting.' She was taken aback when she saw, not a door, but a tall blonde man standing in the doorway, obviously surprised at Snape's company.

"I thought I heard yelling." Draco Malfoy commented offhandedly. He turned toward his mentor. "So what's the bushy-haired freak doing here?"

Hermione sighed. If this was a sign, she could already tell how _spectacular_ that her stay was going to be.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_

_Ah, yes. Harry Potter. My well-loved book series. Okay here's some facts you need to know right off. There will be NO Snape & Hermione pairings here. I suppose it's possible to get the wrong impression since the first chapter centers around them, but this WILL be a Draco & Hermione pairing. Snape will be a big part in the story, though. Only… less involved as the story goes on. You'll see. It'll all make sense. Though I've given enough hints to drop a bomb in your brain as to how this story's going to go._

_Ah, but there will be some themes that I will point out as the chapters go along. Don't know how long the story's ACTUALLY going to be, but I hadn't planned on something very long. I could be lying, but I don't know. Not rushed, but not drawn out either. We'll see._

_Also, I intended for this story (and even the summary) to give hints about the theme (or Truth) I want to reveal in the story. But, I may have also misdirected you in doing so. Yes, I want the characters to end up together in the end, but that isn't the _theme_. The title of the story is important I think to understanding the theme. Hm. Like I said earlier, we'll see. :) But don't worry, I'm a "happy ending" sort of person, so it'll all work out. Maybe not the way you imagined, but it's not suppose to be a complicated story._

_And I changed my name. Felt like I needed to for some reason. I AM a different person than I used to be. But, eh, we'll see how this works out since I'll probably be confusing people with my new penname._

_**Disclaimer:** **I do NOT own Harry Potter. Rowling does. :)**_

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><p><strong><em><span>Random Not-So-Important Facts<span>__:_**

_Also, I AM Christian. I know, some of you guys' brains just exploded by saying that. Or you're calling me a hypocrite. Which may be true, but I have some personal reasons why I'm okay with reading and writing about Harry Potter. For one, there's no outright anti-Christian (I HATE GOD) comments in the books. As far as I know, the only strained point would be use of magic. Magic is nonexistent in real life. God says so. Or at least He says not to use it or associate with it. But that's about it. Magic is a sin just like every other sin, and, as far as I know, no other book other than the Bible is perfect. So any book you read is going to have something wrong with it. I've read and seen others read books worse than Harry Potter (all sins are equal, so a book advocating sex, drugs, cheating, and whatever is ten times worse I think), and as long as I'm aware and understand my limitations—then I think the series is okay. I've got no temptation to do magic in the least. I have other issues that I have to be careful and avoid, but this isn't one of them. Doesn't make magic okay, but I'm just saying that I think Harry Potter's okay. I wouldn't be okay if the author of the book tried to say God-hating things, or only wrote the book for the purpose of denying Christianity. Like "The Golden Compass" series was only written for the purpose of killing off God. I refuse to read or watch that series. _

_Also, Harry Potter USES magic… but the meaning is placed elsewhere. Like friendships, resolution of conflict… love. There's a big theme of love. And redemption. Sacrifice. Sounds Christian to me. Just because there are a few things wrong with a book, doesn't mean it can't contain some Truth within it. Like television shows. You'll never find a perfectly moral show unless it's… Blue's Clues or something. Maybe. But that doesn't mean it can't have nuggets of Truth. And even in a world where there are those who don't believe in God, it doesn't stop the Truth from being Truth. And all Truth comes from God. So that's one of the reasons why I don't mind reading what I do. As long as it's mistakes don't hurt me spiritually, then I think it's cool. The day that it pulls me away from God is the day I have to put it down and move on to something else._

_So we cool? I could be wrong, and you can say so. I understand. I could get to heaven tomorrow and find out I was completely wrong. But I do the best I can with what I know and what I have here on earth._

_Also, as stated earlier, I want to include some themes in this story. Maybe you noticed "Absolution" in the story title? Well, let's say that's sort of important. I want to entertain with a story, but also sort of… point out a Truth or two… from the Christian perspective. If I can make this story work right, of course. Not sure if I can, but that's the plan. None of it is going to be blatant though. It's still only about Draco and Hermione's relationship. It may fall apart, but we'll see._

_Thank you for reading my story. Hopefully you find it fun, interesting, and maybe even teach a little something in the future. Even though it took forever to type, not much (theme-wise) has happened yet. But we'll see. I hadn't planned on any angst ridden stories, but I'm afraid a lot must happen before we can move from that point into something more… well, heart-warming. Seems it would be unjust to jump in to happy fun relationship time without the bonding and getting over old wounds. Also another important idea. Hmmm._

_Read and review please :) helps me see if I'm improving as an author. And fix what needs fixing too. Also, if you review, then I know I should continue. I'd hate to write an entire story and it be awful without anyone telling me. (: So without further ado..._

_READ AND REVIEW PLEASE! lol_

_-HawaiianCaffeine (AKA: alana124pyro)_


	2. Chapter 2: Finding Animosity

_**Title**__: Of Anger and Absolution_

_**Summary**__: Hermione was embarrassed. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. But being a war hero didn't ease her conscious apparently. When she develops a dangerous condition, the only option to fix it is to help someone she least expected. Dramione.  
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_**Chapter 1:**__ Encountering Animosity_

_**Word**__**Count**__: About 5,880 +  
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**Of Anger and Absolution**

' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I '

"She will be staying here, Draco." Said blonde wizard snapped up from his glare at Hermione to stare amazed at Snape. Hermione, always the observant one, turned from the two men and apparated to her flat without another word. Somehow, she thought it best to not be around when Snape explained her presence. She only hoped he didn't go into too much detail. It was much too personal.

After the _Golden Girl_ from the stupid _Golden Trio_ left, Draco turned toward Snape with a hard look. "_What do you_ _mean, _she's staying?" Snape, not one to be hurried, turned away and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey from his side table with a couple of shot glasses. Despite Draco's ire, he had good manners drilled into him since before he could walk and so helped his old professor with the glasses by laying them out on the TV tray next to his bed. He poured them both a good amount of alcohol before passing his mentor a glass, and taking a sip from his own.

After a sip, Snape straightened up and set the glass on the coffee table. Draco crossed his arms. Snape cleared his throat. "I meant what I said. You should know better than most about that. Granger needs a room downstairs. When she gets back, you'll have to show her." Draco started to sputter, but Snape cute him off by continuing, "—And her main purpose will be to help me with any physical therapy that I will need, or chores around the house. In exchange, I will give her tutoring in potions. That is all." Although Snape said this with finality, Draco ignored his hint and protested, "But I do those things! Well, I_ help out _anyway. What could she—"

"She's a Healer, so this is her job, not yours. You will help _her_ for whatever she needs to help _me_, understand?" Draco's jaw audibly dropped. "She came to me looking to give some aide, and I have accepted. Now allow her to do her job."

Draco threw his arms in the air, "But we'll kill each other!" Snape waved away the idea as if it was a triviality. "You will get by some way or another. Just don't be starting any duels, Draco." The older man gave a hard look, "I don't need my house being torn apart by two rabid teenagers."

"You're _insane_! The day me and her not kill each other will be—" Snape cut him off. "—This is not a democracy. End of discussion, Draco. Or you may leave." Black eyes pierced gray eyes. Draco tensed.

"You know why I can't do that."

Snape grunted and shifted his bedding and clothes in a more presentable way. Of course he knew that Draco wouldn't leave. Snape prided himself on his ability to orchestrate events in the way they needed to go. You don't become the most trusted man by _Voldemort_ for nothing after all.

"Then do as I say." The end. No argument allowed.

Draco slammed his fist against the door frame as he banged his way out of the room. The door smashed back into placed with an angry kick.

Sighing, Snape grasped his glass of firewhiskey and took another sip. That went better than he hoped for.

' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I '

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><p>' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I '<p>

After Hermione gathered her things and shrunk them to fit her suitcases she took a deep breath and apparated back to Professor Snape's house. She had several suitcases despite shrinking them to fit inside her magical bottomless bag. Well, she _would_ be living here for several months, if not more, depending on how fast Severus healed. It didn't seem possible to be over-prepared, and Hermione was the type to 'take everything but the kitchen sink' as it were. At least everything she owned was practical. No frilly silliness like some girls were want to do.

Hermione brushed her hair back nervously with her fingers. She had apparated into the hallway upstairs, seeing no need to interrupt Snape again and give him another chance to change his mind. Besides, she needed to unpack. The only problem was…

"Come to be the Know-It-All, whose only purpose is to annoy me to death once again, Granger?"

Ah, yes. Him.

"Actually, Malfoy, I'm here to be a Healer." Or pretend to be one, since she had yet to actually finish the schooling, "Nothing more or less. Just show me where…" Her sentence dropped off as she turned around to see none other than Draco Malfoy sneering at her existence once again. His arms were crossed, obviously saying with his body language what he didn't feel the need to say out loud. He was not going to help her in the least. Especially not to her guest room.

Her eyes narrowed in anger. There was no need to be hostile. She was only there to help Snape get back on his feet. And personal reasons. There was no need for them to even _speak_ to each other. And she told him so.

Draco, also now glaring back at her, stood up from leaning against the wall and used his height as an advantage for intimidation.

"_What are you _doing_ here, Mudblood?_" Obviously, Hermione Granger, the War Hero, was not cowed by a bit of height. The insult stung slightly, but it hurt much less than it ever used to, instead drawing anger out of her. So this was how it was going to be, eh?

"_Well, excuse me._ I've already told you, but whether your miniscule brain can comprehend it is not _my_ problem. _Now leave me be._" While she practically growled the last sentence, Hermione straightened up and stuck her chin a little higher in the air. She had helped defeat _Voldemort_ and if _he_ thought he would be able to intimidate her in _this way_, then he had another thing coming! She tried to go downstairs, but noticed that Malfoy had moved subtly in the way to block her passage. Stupid boy!

Hermione pulled out her wand. Her voice low, she said, _"Move out of the way, Malfoy."_

His face contorted from anger, to slight fear, but eventually settled back to anger. He put his hand in his pocket to reach for his wand, but hesitated. He wasn't supposed to duel, but even if he could, he wouldn't be fast enough to hit her first. Calmly he said, "You wouldn't _dare_, Granger. You came here, wanting to help him. –For whatever reason. You'd _hate_ to have him change his mind after only a few minutes, wouldn't you?" Although Draco wasn't sure how much of what he said was true, Hermione's hesitation was enough of an answer to give him ammunition to use in the future.

After a minute of a glaring contest, Hermione hesitantly dropped her wand to point at the floor. It remained in her hand though. Seemingly more confident now that the imminent danger was lessened, Draco rose to his full height, further blocking the stairs. He crouched forward to glare into her eyes. "I don't know what it is you're doing here_, but I intend to find out_. And if you so much as make one wrong move, I'll know." He seemed to want to say more. Rage at her or something for the injustice of her existence, but had run out of insulting and intimidating things to say nevertheless. Realizing this, he slowly moved to the right, allowing a small opening for her to squeeze herself through.

Hermione wished she had something to say just so she could have the last word, and yes, there were many angry words sitting on the tip of her tongue, but she knew they would all lead to a fight. With magic rather than words. And Hermione refused to let Malfoy have the satisfaction of seeing her create her own demise and get her thrown out of the house for being annoying and disruptive to Snape. She knew it probably wouldn't take much. Shrieking at the injustice of it all, she pushed passed the young man, making her shoulders smash into his along the way just so he could at least _feel_ her frustration if nothing else.

"By the way, you're room is the furthest to the right!" She heard Malfoy call down the stairs triumphantly. He was answered by a door slamming shut and curse words echoing through the walls. Draco shrugged and went downstairs as well. Getting rid of her might be easier than he first thought.

' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' l ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I '

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><p>' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' l ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I '<p>

Over the next few weeks, a routine was set up between them. It wasn't the easiest trio to keep each other company, but they got along. Well, Snape got along. The other two either fought like cats and dogs, or were totally silent with each other, but _always_ with tension in the air that you could cut with a dulled butter knife.

On this day, like the others, Hermione woke up at 5 AM to begin chores. Technically, she didn't need to get up so early. But Snape was an early riser, and she didn't really mind getting up. It didn't take long to realize that the two bachelors might be great at magic, but where cooking was concerned, were found lacking. Or rather, they _always_ ordered out. Hermione couldn't take the lackluster food, or the limited menus for very long (apparently there _was_ such a thing as Wizard's Take-Out Restaurant, though it was much different than muggles since there was only one restaurant to choose from and it was always… bland… and greasy). Soon, Hermione started buying meat and vegetables to make some half-decent meals with. Well, technically, she ordered Malfoy to buy them since he was the rich one, and was a lackadaisical bum to boot (except where helping Snape was concerned). Sure, she wasn't that great of a cook, but she did what she could. Seeing as it wasn't her forte and her family wasn't known for great food skills, Hermione had to experiment to see what worked and what didn't. Occasionally, even when she cooked, they ordered out. Those were the times that the food didn't work out. Usually, it was a 50/50 shot about what they would be eating that night.

Sighing, Hermione tied her messy brown locks up in a hair tie. Technically, her bushy hair had calmed down since her younger years, so it was more manageable and presentable curls. –Except when she didn't at least put it up for house-work and cooking. Very bad things happened to her hair—like a rat's nest. At least she could make eggs and bacon easily enough. Not much more needed for breakfast anyway. And a pot of coffee, of course. Every other day she switched from using her wand to doing it by hand. She didn't want to lose practice in either area in case the need should ever arise.

While frying up her batch of eggs, Hermione began to hum. It was times like these that made her forget all her troubles. Since the rest of the time was spent tense, ready for fight or flight against a certain insufferable pureblood, Hermione enjoyed the peace when she could in the morning. Draco was usually _not_ a morning riser so when she got the chance…

"Attempting to try out for banshee screeching school soon, eh Mudblood?" Hermione's muscles contracted painfully as Mr. Pale Tall and Blonde entered the room. He never just _walked_ into any room. He made an entrance. Sometimes strolling cockily, other times just plain meanly, throwing insults and swearing at everything except the floorboards. Well, not necessarily—he'd sworn at the floorboards one time when he'd tripped over his own feet. Served him right, the prat.

"No, but I imagine a class in _kindness_ or even _humanity_ might do your _Death Eating_ soul some good," Hermione replied sharply, obviously not in the mood to put up with his unwarranted ire. She took the cue from his suddenly tense form that she'd hit a nerve. Good. Never let it be said that Hermione Granger _ever_ let people walk over her like a doormat. She felt not even the least amount of guilt.

While a second ago Draco had looked content to toss an insult by and butter his toasted bread, now he looked furious and unwilling to let the comment slide. Dropping his toast and utensil on the counter, he turned toward Hermione ominously.

Hissing, he crowded her spot next to the stove, "And maybe one _stupid_ Know-It-All should learn to keep her _trap_ shut about things she _doesn't_ know and _can't_ _understand_."

Eyes narrowed, Hermione pushed Draco away, forcing him to give her some space. Before he reacted, however, she turned back toward the stove and switched it off. No need to burn the eggs over one of the many fights he and she got into.

"Unfortunately your intimidation tactics don't work against me, Malfoy, as you should well know by now." Hermione slid the scrambled eggs onto a paper plate. "But maybe your mummy could bail you out again, since you obviously can't think for yourself. Or fight for anything of importance. I mean, _honestly_, "Mudblood"? Clearly blood matters less than the dirt under _my_ shoe, especially now that the war's over." She knew what buttons to push. And she used the knowledge to the utmost degree. Maybe she had a little Slytherin in her after all.

. . . . . Hahahaha. Not.

Beyond furious and probably entering rage, Draco snapped a hand around her upper arm to yank her to face him. "_You—_"

"Draco—Granger?"

Hermione and Draco both turned toward the third party in unison. The two squabbling teenagers looked at each other quickly, before moving 2 feet in opposite directions. Neither of them wanted to get in trouble by Professor Snape. Hogwarts or no.

Hermione fiddled with the eggs and bacon, tossing salt and pepper where it was needed before turning back toward Snape. Draco had turned back to tend to his toast. Although Snape didn't say anything else, Hermione could tell he hadn't missed a second of it. Especially now that they weren't fighting, the tension in the air increased ten-fold from what _couldn't_ be said.

Sighing and waving a couple rogue hairs from her face, she walked over to Snape and handed him his plate. At the moment, he still couldn't walk. But a wheelchair was just as good for the moment, so he used it. He _had_ improved much since she had been there. While Draco had obviously done what he could with what little he knew of physical therapy and healing spells, he was no match for Hermione. Something that she couldn't get enough of pointing out to him whenever he got on her nerves.

Hermione, despite the mood, smiled slightly and told her professor that she'd be up in a minute for her potions lesson. Even though he couldn't walk, Snape refused to be immobile "as a new born babe" and so took to apparating up and downstairs, taking the wheelchair with him. It took some doing, but Hermione was able to get the thing to adhere to the spell. Her lessons came before the physical therapy because it always wore him out afterward, leaving no room for learning. Snape's dark eyes watched the two young adults suspiciously for a minute before disappearing into thin air.

As soon he left, Draco turned back to Hermione with a _snap_. _"This is not over, Granger,"_ he hissed ominously.

She scoffed, "It never is. –Not that it matters. You couldn't injure a completely inadequate _first year_ with your skills as a wizard." Take _that_ male castration you jacka—

Expecting him to go off the deep end of rage, she was surprised when he seemed to calm down slightly. He backed away from her and leaned against the countertop across from her. "You _don't know_ what I can do, Mudblood." Hermione was taken aback. Anything that made Draco relax rather than angry was a scary sign. It usually meant he wasn't lying or trying to be "cooler" than he really was. Funny how she'd gotten to know that about him.

Redirecting, she said, "Don't care. For all your comments about my ignorance and "lack of blood," I always matched or beat your scores in school." Hermione took a moment to be a vindictive teenage girl and flicked her hair back for effect while glancing over her shoulder, "_Who's the idiot now?_"

The rage was back. Full force. He stepped up behind her, wand at the ready. Seeing his intention, Hermione flipped around to face her opponent, and went to draw her wand as well. Unfortunately, as she dug in her jeans, she realized with a shock that she had forgotten them in her pajamas. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _Constant _vigilance_! Had she learned _nothing_ from the war?

A second after she realized her mistake, Draco also realized it. Smirking, he dropped the wand down and stuffed it in his robes. His right hand grabbed her right arm as he leaned in close to say, "_Listen_, Mud—"

Despite being the defenseless idiot that she was, Hermione was not to be deterred and cut him off by raising her left arm to slap him. He used his left hand to catch her at the wrist. They stood there glaring at each other for half a minute. If looks could kill, they would both be six feet under, with nothing but ash left to bury.

Even though nothing had actually happened, the two were breathing hard in anger. Nobody moved. To move would be to admit defeat.

Then Hermione's sleeve slipped down, causing the two to glance at her arm. Draco let go as if burned. Although Hermione had glanced at her arm, it took her a few seconds to realize why he had ended the glaring match. Her arm hung in air, as if she didn't know she could move it yet. She glanced at it again.

_MUDBLOOD._

Hermione glanced back at Draco with narrowed eyes. His eyes remained fixated on the scrawled work on her arm. So. He could call her every name under the sun, make her life a living hell, injure her in every emotional way possible, but he couldn't handle a bit of a scar? _One given to her in his own house?_

Now it was Hermione's turn to be in a rage.

Breathlessly she angrily yelled, "_You are such a hypocrite!_" Just as when she had lost it in Snape's room, Hermione started to pace in the kitchen like an angry lioness. "You go about, screeching your _idiotic_ complaints about everyone else's shortcomings, praising your own name and lineage to the _heavens_, yet you can't even _look_ at what you and your lineage _have done_!" Although Draco had turned his attention from her scar, he followed her movements with such hatred that it was venomous.

She continued her pacing, speaking fast now, "YOU act like the spoilt prince from on high, making everyone else's life miserable because you are so much better than we are, yet you can't even _deal_ with what people with your same prejudices _do_ to people like us! You act so high and mighty, but all you've ever been and will be, is a _coward_! A _coward_ with no principles, no love, no acceptance, no forgiveness, _and no friends_!" She should have stopped, knowing she was without a wand, but she couldn't. "And I _hope_ you enjoy your sorry excuse of a life alone and with nothing to save you from the pit of despair _because you've put yourself there_ and it is _all you'll ever have_!"

And then there was silence. She turned from him at the end of her tirade because she noticed the tears welling up within them. She refused to give him that satisfaction. It was a good thing she was done yelling because if she tried to continue, he would hear the tightening up her throat, threatening to send her into weeping hysterics.

She waited for the green light that would end her life. Truly, she did. He had the wand, he had the rage, and she had done everything in her power to throw every shred of anger and frustration out at him in the meanest way possible.

But it didn't come. When she turned around, she was stunned to find herself alone. She hadn't heard him leave, but she knew that he had heard every word of her tirade. And then, after realizing this, Hermione really did have to hold back a choked sob. She told herself over and over again that he deserved this. That she was right. _She was right._ The redness in her eyes, however, did not go away. Nor did the tightness in her throat. And, instead of relieving some of the tension that had been burning a hole in her very soul, it got worse. The hole grew bigger, and the burden got heavier.

Just another routine morning fight of the three weeks that she's been there. Her figure hunched forward slightly.

A second later, Hermione flew to her room to remove all traces of her emotional wreckage before going to see Snape in his room. Before going to her lesson, she had stared at her scarred arm for a full five minutes, unable to reconcile what she saw. Sighing, she grabbed her notes, and went upstairs.

' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' l ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I '

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"There is something I would like to speak with you about, Miss Granger."

Hermione tensed. It was the end of the lesson. Somehow, intuition or otherwise, she knew what he was about to bring up.

"It took you some time to go from downstairs to upstairs." His black eyes stared at her relentlessly, conveying meaning.

Her first reaction was to play dumb. Oh, really? Nah, I only nearly signed my own death warrant at the hands of someone who has only hated me _more_ and _longer_ than you. But let's pretend it didn't happen.

Snape remained staring. Or glaring. The two were one and the same with him. Hermione sighed. There would be no tip-toeing with Professor Snape. Which was ironic since his entire House was bent on the idea of subterfuge and calculated lies.

"Malfoy and I…" Hermione was at a loss for words.

"His name is Draco. Malfoy could refer to many people, as you know." Hermione glared. _He_ knew which she _referred_ to though.

"We are not getting along so well." She thought back to calling him a coward with no friends and winced. 'Not getting along' might be an understatement.

"I… see." Snape eyed her calculatingly. Hermione hated these "meaning filled silences." She wished he would just come out and _say_ what he wanted to _say_. It was like he expected her to just _read his mind_. Of course, considering how smart Hermione Granger is, she usually could. But it was still frustrating.

Sighing, Hermione passed a hand over her face. Suddenly angry and tired, she thrust her hands out in exasperation. _"What do you want from me?"_

He continued to eye her before turning away and shuffling some papers, completely ignoring her presence now. Airily he said, "Nothing."

Hermione screeched in frustration. "It's not my fault that he's a complete prat! What do you want me to do? Be a doormat? Because that's what'll happen if I let it!"

He didn't even glance at her. Instead, he picked up some educational book, set his glasses in place, and laid back to read. He continued to ignore her, but she wasn't dismissed. So he wasn't done, but was clearly ignoring her to make a point.

"He's arrogant, he ridicules me, he constantly goes out of his way to _show_ how much he hates me—what do I do with that?"

No answer.

She pointed a finger out the door. Glaring with the hatred built up over seven years she started, "He—"

Snape glanced up, hand poised to turn the page of his book. Eyebrow rose, he offhandedly said, "I do not expect _you_ to control what _he_ does, Miss Granger." He went back to his book, finishing the turn of the page.

She was silent, but only because she couldn't think of anything coherent to say. In shock, her jaw dropped. He _couldn't be_ suggesting what she thought he was suggesting!

"You want me to try—"

"Granger," Snape said in his— I can't believe I have to actually _say_ or _explain_ anything to Hermione Granger because it was a _complete_ waste of his precious time, but if he must die on his sword, _then so be it_— tone. "I am not telling you to _try_ anything. I am telling you to stop making excuses and do it."

Her voice went high in disbelief. "There is no way that Malfoy and I can be… friends or something! Just not fighting is impossible!"

Snape looked at her with narrowed eyes, obviously unforgiving and unyielding. "I did not say you had to be friends." Snape glared at her unforgiveable assumption. "Just cooperation—or even _kindness_ as you _Gryffindors_ claim to covet." His lips were curled in obvious dislike of even mentioning the word _kindness_ and _Gryffindors_ in a conversation he participated in.

Hermione's was flabbergasted. "_It's not possible_—"

"—You are lying, Granger! You are putting forth no effort whatsoever. And you know how I hate _lackadaisical_ students." Snape sneered at the word lackadaisical as if it was the utmost sin, "Not that they couldn't if they tried, but that they refuse to just do it. Always _blaming_ the world for their failure. Blaming school, other students, or that their teacher's to mean and doesn't _coddle_ them enough for their efforts, or lack thereof."

Hermione blanched. "But you are unnecessarily awful—"

"—The _world_ will not be so kind when they have to venture out into it. To teach them less than such is to fail as a teacher. Working under pressure is how you _survive_, Miss Granger. As you should well know." Despite his very convincing reasoning, she glared at him, refusing to budge and inch.

Through clenched teeth she started, "I _can't_—"

Snape turned back to his book. "Then you are not the witch I thought you were. _Can't_ does not exist here. You choose what you _can't_. There is nothing more I can teach you here."

This was a dismissal. But not the one she wanted. She can't leave the house. Not just because she was able to sleep again (thankfully) but her professor's opinion had started to matter to her. Well, a professor's opinion always mattered to her—But this stung more than any of the insults he had ever bestowed upon her in school. Mostly because she knew he was right and she had come to respect his opinion more than she ever thought possible. Knowing his rightness didn't make her feel any better, though.

Giving in she replied, "What do I—"

He sighed, "Just _turn the other cheek_, Miss Granger. Do not pay one insult for another. You know what you can do. Just do it."

Hermione rubbed her eyes, feeling like she hadn't slept in two days. She couldn't believe it was _Snape_ who was telling her to _not_ get payback. Shouldn't she be the one to tell him not to be so mean or vindictive? Did anyone know the definition of irony, because Hermione was sure she was experiencing it _right now_.

"Fine. I… need to go fix lunch. We'll do your exercises, and then I'll make dinner. Maybe go out to get groceries and get fresh air…" Because, Lord, she wasn't going to ask _Draco_ to get it for her today. Even in her mind, she said his name with sarcasm. This was never going to work.

Hermione sighed again before turning to leave the through the door. She didn't see Snape's thoughtful expression on her back as she left. Before she shut the door, though, she heard him say, "Watch his actions, not his words, Granger. You'll understand."

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><p>' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' l ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I '<p>

She could understand a foot up his arse!

Hermione stood poised, nose-to-nose, against Draco. While he leaned in dangerously, she kept her finger pointed at his chest accusingly. Both wholly reciprocated the anger each other felt. It was already past 9 PM, and it had been a long day. She had meant to drop dead asleep into bed, when instead she had found _this_ in the living room. And then Malfoy walked in the room. Perfect _freaking_ timing.

"You are a stuck-up, selfish git!"

"Please, Granger, _tell me how you _really_ feel_," He glared down at her with all the burn of anger he could manage.

Hermione screeched and stomped her foot, "_You_ know what you did!" She poked at him angrily, "You ruined the potion that I was working on for Professor Snape! For no reason!"

Draco made a sound of disbelief, "You can't pin that on me, Mudblood! –If you had just kept your trash out of my things—!"

Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "It wouldn't be in _your things_, if you picked _your things_ up from around the house every once and a while! Honestly, you're worse than Harry _or_ Ron!"

"What did you expect me to do—my wand fell behind it! I'm not just going to leave my wand for a stupid potion!" He came nose-to-nose with her once again. Hermione looked ready to spit fire. Actually, as she gazed at him so close to his face, maybe she'd just _bite_ that perfect nose off his face and _show_ him what an _irritating imbecile_ she thought he was! Wow, did she hate him!

"You wouldn't have had to leave it there! Only have tried to be more careful—put forth effort, Malfoy! A little respect for other people's things!" Hermione's voice went a little higher as she said, "It took me _months_ to make that potion!"

Hissing he replied, "A little spilled potion is nothing to cry over, Grang—" He stopped midsentence. Hermione still had her finger pointed at him. What stopped him, though, was when he glanced down to see the scar his psychologically disturbed aunt carved into her. Again. He looked up at her eyes and pulled away suddenly, his eyes cold. Hermione knew she should have been more ashamed of her actions, but she had worn a short sleeved shirt today anyway. Maybe it was below the belt. Scratch that—it was _definitely_ below the belt. But she couldn't help herself. If this is what it took to get him off her back, then so be it. _He brought this upon himself_, Hermione thought soundly.

Coldly, Draco backed up a few steps, shutting her completely from him. Echoing the words he had said when she had first arrived, Draco growled, "I don't know why you're here, Granger, but I will find out. And then I'll finally get you out of my hair and _life_." Sneering, he turned away and stalked to his room, slamming the door.

Hermione covered her face with her hand, shaking slightly. Despite what Snape said, they could never work through their differences. Draco's actions _were_ is words. Nothing spoke louder than the yelling that was still ringing in her ears from their fights. Today's fighting was the worst it had ever been—the notice of her scar had brought up things that neither were prepared to handle. They couldn't get along. It was foolish to think otherwise. Taking a deep breath, then letting it out slowly, she turned toward her room and walked inside, much more calmly than her roommate. Wasn't it just wonderful that she and Draco were both on the same floor, in rooms _right next to each other_? How convenient. Hermione sighed as she clicked the door shut and sat down on her bed, staring blankly at the wall opposite of her. She should have known that Snape would do this to her on purpose—put her right next to her worse enemy for more torture of her poor emotional state. Helping Snape held a high price indeed.

Not in the mood to change clothes and shower the muggle way, Hermione transfigured her outfit into pajamas and scourgified her body into cleanliness. Although she had been afraid that it would be difficult to fall asleep tonight due to the explosive events of the day, Hermione found that sleep was a simple affair. As soon as her head hit the pillow, the worn-out young woman fell fast asleep.

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><p>' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' l ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I ' I '<p>

Hermione rubbed her arms against the cold. Couldn't she just lay there? Was there really any need to put for the huge effort it took to stretch out from her warmish fetal position she had worked herself into? Hermione took that self-pitying moment to curl up into a tighter ball. Then she sighed. Life would not wait for her to be ready. Somehow, this voice inside her head sounded just a bit like a familiar sneering voice. She couldn't quite put her finger on it despite it's familiar tone.

Though she didn't want to get up, the winter air was incessant in its fight to wake her. Eventually she rolled over and groaned deeply, stretching her limbs stiffly. She heard a few pops and felt the tingles in the areas where blood circulation was cut off. Well, at least Harry and Ron would be easy to wake up this morning without needing her too—

Hermione's head snapped up, suddenly alert. She felt the hard ground underneath her and saw the wand clutched in her hand. She was slightly numb from the cold and from being in such an awkward position for too long. Breathing quickly, she pushed her brown hair out of the way to glance up at the night sky, only broken by the trees scattered about. She could feel the ache on her legs from the scratches obtained from running without precaution. Choking back a sob, Hermione raised her body to sit on her backside. She scooted back until she hit a tree, tears filling up her wide, scared, eyes once more.

_Not again._

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_

_Ah, so Hermione's sleepwalking was _not_ completely fixed. But it was for a while. So what does that mean? Ha, you'll have to wait and see I guess. It's not a huge mystery or anything—no conspiracies here. : ) although it would make for a great plot, I don't really want to go that in-depth with this story. This story isn't meant to be that long. It took me forever to decide to end it here, actually. Originally I thought that maybe I could finish the whole story within one chapter—maybe two. But now… well, I'm making it up as I go along. Not the story—just how long I want it to be. We'll see. I hope I make it long enough to be satisfying, though the plan is to begin and end it quickly. We shall see. : )_

_Also, some good things to note—everyone has flaws. Right now there's a lot of conflict in the story because people don't deal with those flaws and instead let them get worse. : ) I'm letting a little Truth seep through, but it's not all out in the open yet I think. Hope you aren't disappointed and that the story is better than before._

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. The end. : )_

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_**Random Not Important Point:**_

_And THANK you to my first reviewer _krista04._ She was not only AWESOMELY AWESOME for reviewing (being the only one so far), but she had a really great comment. Also, she had a great point that I didn't think to make in my last author's note. It's only a sin if you _idolize_ it—which the same could be said for any story or hobby or whatever you do. : ) Awesome point. Because, especially as Americans, we idolize a lot. I mean, not like dancing around a fire and praising some crazy golden image or something—but idolizing other things. Like money, love, friends, popularity, power, or… in our cases I guess… books. : ) And she's totally right. Idolizing is when you put something else's importance above God's and then make all of your decisions based on that idolatry or love of that thing. Have to be careful about that in every area of your life—not just worshipping a literal idol. : ) thanks so much for pointing that out. I do not worship Harry Potter or think it's the know-all, be-all in the world and therefore don't see any problem in reading or writing about it._

_THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR WHOEVER READS AND REVIEWS MY STORY :) I appreciate everything you put effort into. I really want to know what you guys think. Hope its improving. And constructive criticisms are welcome. I think that the summary I wrote is off-putting, but I can't think of anything better yet... well, it might change, so if it does, don't freak out : )  
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_Please read and review if you haven't yet. Thank you.  
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_HawaiianCaffeine_


	3. Chapter 3: Laying Blame

_**Title**__: Of Anger and Absolution_

_**Summary**__: Hermione was embarrassed. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. But being a war hero didn't ease her conscious apparently. When she develops a dangerous condition, the only option to fix it is to help someone she least expected. Dramione._

_**Chapter 1:**__ Laying Blame_

_**Word**__**Count**__: About 4,432_

**Of Anger and Absolution**

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Draco stomped around his room, wishing he could spit fireballs at something just to get all the _anger_ off his chest. It was practically eating him alive, all this tension and fighting and whatnot. He kicked some fragile thing (probably a vase for flowers or whatever), and was satisfied when he heard the glass shatter. It just wasn't _fair_. Everything was going smoothly till she showed up! Sure, he made a lot of mistakes he had to pay for, but just this _once_, couldn't he win? He finally _tries_ to do something half-decent for once in his life, and _of course_, one of the _Mighty Musketeers_ jumps in to steal all his glory!

Gritting his teeth, he _reparo_'d the decoration back into one piece, after which he sat with a mighty huff on his bed, crossing his arms. Maybe he should have been more careful when retrieving his wand, but just because he wasn't Goody-Two-Shoe Granger, didn't mean he was pure evil. Sure, he was spoiled for most of his life, but that didn't mean he had an perfect life, by all means! A year living with _Lord Voldemort _with both _his_ life and his _parents'_ lives dangling in the obscenely terrifying balance was enough to cure him of that disease! It was as if she was some shiny perfectly good person with no flaws and he was incapable of doing something good for once! Or incapable of being good at all!

Grey eyes glared at the wall that separated his room from hers. He had a temper, but so did she! Everything was not _all_ his fault. He could claim to riling her up a little, but she had to take some responsibility for her actions as well. He stood up, wishing to burn a hole through the wall, right into the one named Hermione Granger,_ life disrupting extraordinaire_. He took a second to glance back at his bed, wishing for sleep—but it was a useless feat. Whenever he was this pissed off, he couldn't fall asleep to save his _life_. As a testimony to that, it had been hours since they had fought, probably past midnight. _Grrrr_, another thing Granger took from him. _Sleep_.

Draco snapped back to the wall with another glare. _She was responsible for everything._ He might be difficult to live with, but _he_ wasn't the one forcing her to live here, either. Running a hand through his hair, he contemplated this. Now that he thought about it, he was of a mind to _tell_ her that. Right now. She might be sleeping, but he was almost hoping she would be _just so_ he could ruin her night just as his was ruined. Fair's fair. And, with any luck, she'd get so ticked off that she'd leave them forever.

_Good riddance_.

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Draco Malfoy always made an entrance. So, without further ado, he used his wand to slam the door inward and smash against the wall. He strode in with an air of arrogance, despite his pajama attire. Or lack thereof—he, of course, slept shirtless. And his boxers had little snitches on them. But let anyone dare make fun of the Great Draco Malfoy for this fact, and you shall face the sting of his wand—because… well, his mother gave them to him. He couldn't exactly say _no_.

"_Granger_! I want to tell you…!" He stopped. He took a minute to glance around the room, just in case. Where in the hell was—

_**CRACK.**_

Draco stepped back hesitantly as Hermione apparated right in front of him, her back was towards him. As if sensing his presence, she around, and revealed her appearance to be a scratched up, dirt-covered mess. She hastily wiped a couple stray tears. She looked shocked, but it quickly turned to anger. His mouth popped open in surprise, but before he could comment, she said sharply, "What are you doing, breaking into my room, Malfoy?"

Draco looked taken aback and responded in anger, tears deemed inconsequential and thus forgotten, "I can do whatever I want in our house, _Mudblood_."

Relieved that he was taking the bait, Hermione glared menacingly. "Well this is _my_ room and unless you want Snape to find out that you're up to no good again, then _get out_!"

Draco pointed a finger at her, "I know what you're trying to do, but it won't work." He lowered his voice as he leaned in to add effect, "You think starting a fight with me will make me forget that you weren't in bed when you were supposed to be. So, know this _Granger_," His nose crinkled with disgust, "You and everyone else thinks you're so perfect, _but you're not_. Whatever it is you're doing, _I will find out_. And when I do, believe me, you'll _regret_ coming here." Lowering his accusing finger, he relaxed into his cocky posture. Turning on his heel he walked out the door calling behind him almost cheerfully, "You have a dirty little secret, Mudblood, and I know how to use secrets to my advantage. Sleep tight, Granger."

When he finally exited, and went back to his bedroom with a click of the door, Hermione sagged against the wall in relief. This was _very_ bad luck. Only Draco Malfoy would be so cocky as to walk in, bold as brass, to her room, ready to start a fight after midnight. Only he would arrive on the very night that she wasn't actually there. Passing a hand over her face, Hermione sighed. How was she going to deal with this? Chances were, Malfoy hadn't been lying about finding out about her "secret." It wasn't a dirty secret, but it was personal enough that she didn't want anyone to find out. She'd only told Snape because it was her only option. Even Harry and Ron didn't know—which was a problem. They would be angry with her if Draco started spouting out about _Hermione _Know-It-All_ Granger_ had sleepwalking issues. She could tell them now to cut the consequences of finding out later, but she wasn't ready yet. Besides, everything had been going fine! Before she came to this house, the sleepwalking had been getting worse and was happening every week. As soon as she moved in to help Snape, the sleepwalking had stopped all together. How was it that it came back? And this was only sleepwalking in its early stages, with running, rather than apparating, into the woods. No tent, no wards. It was as if the sleepwalking had started all over again, _instead_ of relapsing from the _same_ problem.

Which meant that there was a new problem. A new trigger perhaps? Hermione sighed as she waved her wand, healing her scratches. One could never be sure, but she knew she couldn't leave the house, either. Chances were that she would make the sleepwalking get much worse if she left, despite whatever this new trigger was. Glancing toward a door on her back wall, Hermione found that this time, she wanted to take a real bath, so she undressed and stepped into the shower. Luckily, her room had a personal bathroom without needing to venture into other parts of the house late at night. What really sucked was that the timing for sleepwalking was so _inconvenient_. Now that things had been made worse between her and Draco, he was more than _ever_ ready to make her life a living hell. And yesterday had been a long hard day. Couldn't she just get a break _once_? Couldn't have started her sleepwalking after nice, relaxing, day? Of course not.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione stepped out of her shower, dressed into another set of pajamas, and sunk into her bed. She wasn't sure if she wanted to sleep, or even if she _could _if she wanted to. Even so, there wasn't much time before daybreak for her to get any kind of rest. Despite the fear gripping her heart of waking up in a different place, Hermione laid back onto her pillow and closed her eyes.

Hopefully, since her sleepwalking was only just beginning, it would take just as much time to progressively get worse as last time. Hopefully, she wouldn't need to go to bed terrified every night. Hopefully, Draco would never actually find out about her problem. Hopefully no one would. Hopefully all these unexplainable and emotionally draining circumstances didn't make her a complete nutter before the age 21.

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Although his meddling hadn't worked the way he had planned, it was far from a failure. Draco let a wide smile grace his features as he laid back in his chair, totally and confidently at ease. For once, he would get what he wanted. His plans usually went from bad to worse, but this time, it was golden. He was older, wiser, and _luckier_. He didn't even have to drink a potion to do it. Everything would finally turn out the way he wanted, and Granger would get the shaft this time.

So what was he going to do? Easy. Stalk her. _Yes,_ _yes_, too simple, but there you are. Surprisingly, the simplest plans were always the ones that worked the best which was another reason for Draco to be more confident about finding out Hermione Granger's secret. If she was apparating all over the place, then all he had to do was find out where she was going. Now, that wasn't exactly the easiest thing to find out. Really, the only way to know would be to read her mind, which he couldn't (well, wouldn't, since it's _illegal_ and he's in enough trouble as it _is_) do. But there was also side-a-long apparition—if he could catch her in the act, then all he had to do was _hold on_. Also, there were those scratches to account for. It's possible that whatever illegal thing she's doing has to do with those marks, but it's _also_ possible that it might lead him to wherever she's going. Maybe she has to walk outside for a portkey? Who knew. Whatever the case, it all boiled down to one question. When did she leave? Days, times, places. _This_ time she _arrived_ in her bedroom at night. It might be different at another time.

The only way to find out would be to follow her everywhere and catch her in the act. Thus: stalking. It would be a pain in the butt because now he would actually have to look for excuses to be around her. He already lost the element of surprise, but there were other ways—such as forcing his company on her. In a longsuffering sigh, He got up from his chair to lay back on his bed, arms behind his head in contemplation. He would hate having to put up with her even more after today (… yesterday? It was probably 3 in the morning now. Whatever). It was unfortunate that he walked in on her only now, and not earlier when she would be less pissed at him, but whatever. They didn't have to _enjoy_ each other's company, only tolerate it. Well, _he_ would tolerate it, she would do everything to _stop_ interacting with him. Good thing he was skilled at excuses and persuasion. He would find out, and when he did, Hermione Granger would _suffer_.

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Over the next couple weeks, it was official. Hermione Granger was _suffering_. Whatever it was that she did in the past to deserve this, she didn't know. But it was truer than anything that someone out there decided she needed payback.

Obviously, Draco was following her. But she had assumed that's all he would do. She could easily avoid him, so she thought that it was no big deal. And it was working since it had been 2 weeks since the fight and nothing had come of it. Of course, she avoided him like the plague. And she hadn't had anymore sleepwalking nightmares. But, apparently, that wasn't good enough anymore for him as she stood there slack jawed staring at the blonde man in front of her.

"You _can't_ mean what I think you mean, Malfoy." He stood there unyielding, arms crossed. Of course he did. He never said anything he didn't mean. Well… that's a lie too, but in this case, he was serious. He was starting to close in on her schedule, looking for times that he could intrude upon. Force her to stop avoiding him.

"You are buying _garbage_, Granger. I'll go with you to supervise."

She was at a loss for words. This never happened to her, yet there she stood, slack-jawed. "You are _not_ going grocery shopping with me, Malfoy!"

His arms were crossed obstinately. She watched as a slim finger of his tapped his other arm in annoyance. "I can do what I damn well _please_, Granger. And it's _my_ money. Besides, you could be stealing or stashing half of it without my notice." He had her there—it _was_ his money. Unfortunately. Not that she ever used it willy-nilly, but he had a right to be there. But she wouldn't go down without a fight!

"You're absolutely crazy! Have you forgotten how much we _hate_ each other?" He glared at her. Of course he hadn't forgotten. It was why he was doing this stupidity. She got the message.

Grasping for straws, Hermione said in a high-pitched voice, "Doesn't Professor Snape need you for potions lessons?" She could see the smirk on his face widen.

Plucking the shopping list from her hand, he started off towards the door, leaving her behind to stare in bewilderment. "You might want to hurry, Granger, or I'll leave you and buy all the foods that you hate." As he strode out he said with clipped words, "Don't worry, it's all been taken care of." He made sure to take care of everything before his plan was put into motion. _Stalking 101: Never leave you're prey alone._

Hermione fought back her instincts of running away. _He was going to kill her before the end of her stay._ But she also knew what he was doing. Following her everywhere to find out her secret. Well, if he followed her everywhere during the day time, he would never find out. She wanted to protest much further—scream her indignation of having to put up with his company! But—this was best. If she protested too much, then he would get more suspicious and do around the clock surveillance. If he wasn't already planning on that now. _What to do, what to do, what to do?_

Hermione groaned and followed him out the door. Maybe in this _one_ outing, it would prove to him that he couldn't stand to watch over her as he planned. And she gave him no reason to worry over his 'money.' Of course, she knew he didn't get a flying pig about the money. But she could hope. Good thing it was passed lunch time. When they got back, Malfoy would surely have to have his potions lesson with Snape. She _knew_ he hadn't had it yet, so at least it would get him off her back.

Also, she always went to a _muggle_ market—so maybe that would also play to her favor. And she had the keys to the vehicle. Sending a prayer up, she stalked outside to stop Malfoy before he apparated anywhere. She felt like a soldier walking to her death.

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"So, Mudblood, this is what lower people must do to travel?" Despite his degrading words, he seemed chipper in saying them, clearly curious, observing all the little buttons and levers in the car. Hermione wished she could rip out that stupid and cheerful silver tongue. Stupid. Lesser people her _ass_.

"Hm… seems rather _humble_ of you to count yourself as a _lower person_ since _you_ are using one just as they do, but yes. This is the best mode of transportation for certain circumstances. There are many other ways to travel, Malfoy."

He quirked an eyebrow at her sharp retort. Normally, he'd be beyond pissed. But he had the upper-hand. Hermione was at a disadvantage against him, so it soothed his tender ego. He found that when he was _winning_, his personality was much more amiable. He sat back in his cushioned passenger seat, arms behind his head in relaxation.

"Also," Hermione wasn't done by a long shot. She gave him the barest glance of contempt before turning her eyes back on the road. "All of the Hogwarts students must travel by train, including _you_, to get to school. Muggles use trains. Muggles _invented_ trains, Malfoy. If anyone is _lower_ then maybe you should look in the mirror more often, _your majesty_."

Despite his confident comfortable actions, his form began to tense. There was only so much dignity-trashing he could take before he blew up. In fact, her brown mane was looking close and good enough to pull out hair-by-hair. If she thought he would allow her to—

Tires squealed into an _**ERRRRRRRRRRK.**_

Draco was suddenly slammed against the passenger door. "What the he—"Another second later, his face smacked forward into the dashboard. He tried to push himself off, but in another second, he was righted back into his seat, bruised, and shaken up.

"_What the hell, Granger_!" His voice was high from shock and pain. When he turned to look at her, his jaw lowered. She sat _pretty-as-you-please_, not in the least bit altered. Her right hand hung onto the handle the vehicle provided in front of the side window. She glanced at him, as if he was half-forgotten. Again, suddenly, she came to a screeching halt into a marked space at some food store, pitching him forward in a hostile manner. Groaning, he peeled his face from the dashboard a second time.

When she turned to him, her eyes were wide in pretend amazement. In a mocking surprise, she unclenched her hand from the handle and held her fingers over her mouth. In a fake girlish voice she started, "Oh, I'm _sorry_. This lesser being _tried_ to tell you to put your seat-belt on when we first got in the car, but it must have _slipped your mind_. It must have also slipped my mind to tell you what an awful driver I am. I mean, these cars are _so_ hard to handle." When she glance at him briefly again, her eyes turned hard and her voice turned harder, "Maybe I'll remember _next_ time." Obviously, she didn't plan on a next time.

_Granger was out to kill him!_ His eyes narrowed. He wasn't giving up so easy. She wanted to play hard-ball? Well, fine. No more Mister Nice Guy.

Hissing he leaned toward her, "Fine, _Granger_. Allow me to help you in a time of _need_." Before she responded, he clapped a hand on her shoulder and apparated without her consent.

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She forced down the queasy feeling from side-a-long apparition. Immediately, Hermione looked around to make sure of where she was. The forest near Snape's house. The irony was not lost on her that they had come to fight in the exact place where her secret was "hidden," so to speak. She turned toward Draco, seething. How _dare_ he apparate her without her permission? Not only was it rude, but dangerous as well. Full cooperation and trust always supplied the safest traveling conditions. Even if she'd allowed it, they would never have either of those between the two of them. She turned toward him to see his expression beyond anger. Hopefully he wasn't planning on actually killing her—here, where nobody could see or hear her. She reached for her wand to find it missing. Alarmed she glanced up to see that he had already filched it from her before she had even thought to draw it. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. The lack of war always lured her into a false sense of security. She knew Draco wasn't her friend, but she hadn't thought that he'd—

He glared at her, realizing her thought process, "Calm down, Granger. I'm not going to attack you or anything. I just want to be where Snape won't hear and interrupt."

It eased her fears, but brought back the rage. "You should have _known_ what it would look like to me—what else could I assume?"

He leaned in, his body tense with unexpressed anger, "Maybe that I'm not _pure evil_ and intent on the destruction of the world would be nice, Mudblood!" As if to prove his point, he dropped both of their wands in the dirt and leaves, several feet from both of them.

She shrieked in disbelief, "Not evil. _Not evil_." Hermione threw her hands up in the air as she paced. He clenched his teeth. He hated her pacing. –Always drove him up the wall with irritation. "You stalk me—apparate me in the middle of the woods—degrade me constantly—_not_ _evil_!" With a huff, she went to turn and continue her pacing, but he grabbed her sleeve and tugged harshly to get her to stop.

"Would you—_stupid_—grrr—_stop with the pacing already_!" He couldn't think with all her nervous energy!

She snatched her arm away, tearing her cloth out from between his fingers. "You are the most vile, evil, little co—"

"—Cockroach?" He remembered her words from third year. When she slapped him. She seemed taken aback at him finishing her sentence. Although she had remembered the day, she hadn't expected _him_ to remember it.

Though he wasn't using any sort of muscle to hurt her, he grabbed her arm and hissed, "You say _I'm_ bad—that _I_ look down on everyone, treat them like dirt. _I_ sit high and mighty on _my_ throne. And that may or may not be true_, but let me tell you something_," He snagged her arm higher to look at him eye-to-eye, "If that's true, then _you are just as bad as _me." Hermione flinched back as if slapped. He let her go. His hold didn't hurt, but the words might as well have been a blade, and she stumbled back from the hit.

"You stand there, sitting high and mighty on _your_ throne, judging me. Deciding who and what I am. _Glaring_ and taunting all the time—" Hermione backed up from him, crunching leaves underfoot. She saw the wind blow Draco's hair back and felt that same wind blow her hair into her face, but she didn't move to fix it. He advanced, but didn't get closer than a foot. She avoided his gaze, breaths becoming shallower. Not in fear of him, but of his words.

Hermione shook her head. He deserved it. He started it. He was always so _horrid_ toward her. He was always to fault—

"—And _don't think I don't notice_ your _scar_ you flash about," spitting out his words unkindly, his expression dangerous.

Hermione choked on her words as she said, "I don't know what—"

"—I'm talking about?" Draco sneered at her ability to be so predictable. "You think you're so _clever_, burdening me down with your accusing looks, and sharp tongue."

It was Hermione's turn to grab his sleeve in indignation, "You are so much _worse_—"

He was breathing hard, expressing his anger loudly, "I may make fun of muggles, and non-magical parents of witches, but you always go for the gold. What I've been saying, I've been saying for _years_. Nobody cares—_even _I_ don't care about it anymore_! It's just a bad habit of mine—if you were _pureblood_, I'd make fun of something else! But I've been this way for years! You've never cared about what I ever said about any of it _before_!" His eyes narrowed, "But _you_, Granger—you go for where it hurts. Poking and prodding—_as soon as you laid eyes on me over a month ago_, you were already _accusing_ me. Everyone accuses me. Before and now." As her fingers slipped from his sleeve, he broke the one foot barrier, grabbing her lower arm to stretch out the menacing scar.

"You pull this out before me now, as if it were some sort of talisman to keep away evil beings—with your short sleeves, you flash it about whenever it takes your _fancy_," Hermione knew it hurt him. _She knew it_. Yet, she didn't. _It wasn't as if Draco was human._ She never thought of it in such a way, but he was right. She showed her scar at him as if it were a patronus scaring off dementors. But he _couldn't_ be right—

She glanced up to see his expression trained on her scar. It was strange because she'd never seen him look in such a way. She saw the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench. Whatever he was thinking and feeling, it hurt her to look at him.

When she looked away, hiding her pain, he let go sneering at her.

"I get the blame and accusing stares enough from the rest of the world—_why do you think I'm here, Granger_?" Hermione looked up surprised. "I don't need it from you." He said this through clenched teeth, glaring at her. She could taste the bitterness in his words—shaming her.

And she was almost going to look at him differently. She was almost going to change her actions, and do better. Try harder. They could never be friends… but civility was worth a shot. She could apologize. She almost did. Then he yanked her arm to look at him again.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again. Whatever secret you're hiding, I'm going to find out. You think you're so clever, but everyone slips. I'm going to get you back, Granger, it's only a matter of time. No compromises or bargains now. _And I will make it hurt._"

Hermione's eyes hardened along with her heart. As he glared his disdain down on her, she realized that she couldn't now. _She was going to_, but not now—not after that. If he had no mercy on her, then neither would she. Her eyes hardened on his. If he wanted hurt, then she'd give it to him. Gladly.

They glared at each other, eye-to-eye. Her voice was low and hard as she said, "I treat you the way you _are_, Malfoy. A selfish, angry, arrogant, prat—no _goodness_ or compassion within. _And I won't let you win._" Before he could react, she lunged for her wand on the ground and apparated without another word. He was left standing, tired, angry… and alone.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_

_Hmm. This was not the direction I was actually planning on. Well, sorta. See, it's still the same plot, but I decided to add in a scene or two. Only because I think my chapters seemed really short with a move in plot, but no relationship. This one is short too-but with interaction. Hmm. The other chapters seemed like less interaction and more narration. And, well, seems wrong to deny our readers some interaction—after all, that's what I look forward to when reading my stories. Of course, I always liked my interactions between pairings to be more… happy. But, nevertheless, this is where the story is. Don't worry! This shall not last forever! Although my intent is for their interactions to be fighting (right now), I'm afraid that each fight is unoriginal and you guys might get bored. Idk. But this is the way it played out in my mind as I was typing it. I was actually planning on you guys finding out about the sleepwalking mystery in this chapter… but, well, I felt it was a bit fast. Well, it would'a been if I had typed it the original way I thought of it (using narration instead of dialogue), but oh, well. We'll see. And thank so much for your encouragement guys (girls so far, actually lol)._

_Thank you Kariko Emma and Krista04. I may not have a lot of reviews, but you two are loyal to a fault so far, so hopefully I have not disappointed. Now that I think about it, the plot hasn't developed much at all in this chapter (you don't know any more than you did last chapter)… BUT, relationship is just as important (I think for the first two chapters I was too concerned about the plot, rather than the juicy meat of interaction. Hmm.) But I'm working on it—finding a good balance of both. I used to have no plot. Now I have no interaction. I must work on happy medium. :) Adding in these scenes though… I don't know. __**The**__** fights seem repetitive**__** almost**__. And I may STILL not have enough interaction between them in one chapter. And the scenes might also be a bit awkward. I'm unsure. __**Could you please tell me if they are?**__ Maybe I need to put more meat and more plot in each chapter. Not a bigger plot, but condense the chapters to be longer. Idk. I don't have a beta (and I feel like it's a little too much trouble to actually use one), so I'm on my own here, deciding everything within the confines of my brain. I promise, in the next chapter, their relationship will change and progress forward. It has to be fighting now for what's to come. Anyway, I wanted progress to happen in this chapter, but decided not to. We'll see._

_No random notes here. At least none I can think of. You can see there are some truths in this chapter being revealed—but these are NOT ones I planned on, really. Well, some of them. Actually, I don't like reading or writing a mean Hermione… well, she's not exactly mean… only misguided. If you or I had to put up with the likes of _Malfoy_, I think I'd lose my noodle too! But I would be much quicker about it! Lol, but, for the purposes of this story, I must mind my manners. No one should be a doormat for another person, but on the other hand, even "good" people aren't perfect. "Good" people can be just as bad as "bad" people if given the wrong circumstance and opportunity. It's nature. We've all got both good and bad within, but with a tendency toward selfish things. To be "good," it's a choice. Not something you're born into. There were things I did wrong that I didn't even know was wrong. It blew my mind on the day I figured that out. I could be just as bad as anyone else. The point is, in any case, (Christian-wise) that just because you're Christian doesn't mean you're some super-spiritual good person. It's never about YOU. It's always about HIM. And coming before him, realizing you're a sinner (bad and fully capable of being bad in the future) and asking for forgiveness to be saved._

_Being Christian doesn't make you righteous. It's when you realize your UN-righteousness that you can come to the point of being saved. It's not the well who need a doctor, but the sick. Yes? Well, it may not seem important to you, but it was a revelation to me. :) And it's important in this story, I think. I know, you're thinking "how can this be important if she never says IN the story Jesus saves or whatever?" Well, in this story, I'm not going to come out and talk about God like in my other story "Finding Faith." But the idea is still important. Hmm. We'll see. Sorry for the long author's note. : ) I always talk to much.  
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_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I do not own Harry Potter, I do not own Harry Potter… : )**_

_THANK YOU FOR READING AND REVIEWING! You guys rock my socks : ) let me know if I type in the wrong way so that it gets to be distracting from the story—such as the breaks I put in. I thought it helped, but whenever I do a quick scene, it seems awkward to have so much break in between the story. Hmm. Let me know what you think._

_HawaiianCaffeine_


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